The thought stirred in Bishop that something was watching him, a metaphysical force that needed desperately to stop him from continuing his plight through the city. He sensed fear in the people who walked by as he sat pinned to the restaurant.
Just don’t move, he thought. Don’t move and they can’t hurt you. They can’t! What happened in the park is done. I can’t take back the past. The man’s dead. Dead! Choked on his vomit.
He smacked his skull against the wall.
And don’t cry! he told himself. You’re a monster. A damned evil monster and your filth is in the fingertips like a disease.
He studied those fingertips, touched them to his trembling lips.
Don’t touch anyone. Don’t touch a soul.
Across the street, in between the speeding cars, there was the light again, a glimpse of the light he’d witnessed in the park. He sat and stared, afraid that he’d been discovered by a terrible force that wished him harm. He was ashamed to look into the light. He was paralyzed, frightened, and stricken with grief. He forced himself to turn away, to put out the light.
“Mother!” he said. “I so desperately need you. I’m lost and empty…so much pain. Help me please!”
His limbs trembled, and he didn’t dare to look into the light again. But he could feel the warmth of the light on his skin, touching his eyes. It was comforting. He closed his eyes as the tears started to fall.
Dear God, help me! I’m so afraid.
His lips were quivering as he opened his eyes.
It was as he remembered from long ago. So many times he’d thought about that time, his time in the alley. But it had become a delusion, a distant memory, almost a myth. All the people surrounding him, roaming the sidewalk, their faces were distorted. They were animal like, hissing and talking and going about their business with no thought at all. An ox, a boar. Snouts with tusks. Snickers and grimaces. Mother and daughter walked hand in hand. The girl looked on Bishop, her face with features of a python. She curled her lips and snarled at him. Mother was a dragon queen in her Prada jacket, hissing orders over the cell phone. He was crying; his throat was closing to the point that he could barely produce a squeal, let alone a scream.
He tried to find someone who appeared human. But everywhere there was no one, not even a glimpse of human form. They were all animals.
Across the street, in the passing cars, was a driver with the face of a dilapidated horse. Passengers with faces in the form of a zebra, a hare, and a turtle. A pimp with fangs and ears like a bat.
Medications, Bishop thought. Hallucinations! Delusions!
Everywhere! I’m insane!
And the light seemed to punch a hole from another dimension into the earth, taunting Bishop with its luminescence and its comfort.
He turned away from the light only to see his reflection in the window. His eyes were hollow, with darkness surrounding them. And he could feel pain in his palms. His scars were bleeding. His heart jumped inside his chest.
“Help us!” his reflection hollered, and then the eyes were gone. In their place there was the light, and its luminescence gleamed through Bishop’s eyes. He wiped the blood from his palms.
He touched the glass as a growl erupted from the sidewalk. Bishop turned to the beast at the end of the street. Its eyes, like glowing emeralds, beamed in the night. It had a tail so sharp it sliced through the people without a jitter or scream. The head resembled that of a boar, with brown tusks that curled to the heavens. The beast was tall, hovering well above those who walked by. Its body, firm, fit, dark auburn, and naked, revealed no genitals. The beast dragged its tongue across its lips.
Its hands, like giant talons, reached to Bishop. And the growl that erupted from the beast’s throat rattled the city.
“Come!” the beast said.
Bishop was petrified; however, he repelled the invitation. He turned away and shut his eyes.
“Go away!” he called. The beast laughed. “Never,” it said. “Never!”
Bishop felt a familiar touch; it was the light, protecting him. His heart screamed. The rain fell with a fierce condemnation.